


Sirius Finds Remus' Diary

by simplysirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Feels, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Relationship(s), Remus x Sirius, Slow Burn, sirius x remus, wolfstar, wolfstar angst, wolfstar fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplysirius/pseuds/simplysirius
Summary: When Sirius accidentally finds Remus' diary and can't resist reading a couple pages, he discovers that he isn't the only one who's hopelessly in love.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @simplysirius for daily fics and fanart! I also take requests :)

“Can I borrow a quill?” Sirius asked, his broken writing instrument dangling between two fingers, dripping ink onto the carpet.

Remus nodded without looking up from his essay, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s extra in my trunk.”

Sirius stood from the common room floor where they had been sprawled out for the last hour, diligently working on their transfiguration essays. Or, rather, Remus was writing his essay; Sirius was a little distracted watching Remus work out of the corner of his eye, his honeyed eyes and long lashes poking out from underneath a mop of golden curls that needed a serious trim once exams were finished.

James was off somewhere in the library, no doubt sitting at the little table in the back that had a perfect view of Lily Evans’ favorite spot to study, in between the tall stacks, so their bedroom was empty as Sirius tromped in.

Remus’ trunk was easy to sort through, the books on one side, rolls of parchment on the other, wells of ink and bars of chocolate in the middle, though it took some searching to find a useable quill. Tawny feathers stuck out from the pages of a small leather bound book that Sirius had never seen before, and, upon excavating the quill from the spine, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the pages.

The flowing, looping handwriting definitely belonged to Remus – he was the only one who wrote the letter A with a fancy little hat on top – but Sirius couldn’t recall a single time where he had seen him writing in it. Remus was bound to read every single book in the Hogwarts library by the time they graduated, but Sirius had no idea he was writing his own stories, too.

Was it spying? Not intentionally, at least. Sirius settled back on the floor and leafed his way to the first page. The writing was a little rougher here, not quite as elegant or refined, some of the ink smudged across the page underneath Remus’ left hand.

_He plays on the Quidditch field with this goofy grin on his face, flying circles around everyone else, not realizing how good he actually is. He could beat them all with his eyes closed. He’s not doing it to show off, though. I think he just wants to make friends. The other kids keep their distance, at least at the beginning, aware of his name but lured by his smile. I feel it, too. There’s something he’s not telling us, something that even his hearty laugh can’t conceal. I hear it at night, when I pretend I’m asleep and not peering over at him in the dark. I see it at dinner, when everyone else gets letters and gifts from home, and he has none. I want to know him, even if it would be easier to ignore him. Everyone else is fine, I guess, but he’s different. Radiant, even. I wonder what it’s like._

Sirius’ eyes left the page, slowly dropping the book into his lap. He ran his fingers along the leather binding and chewed on the inside of his lip. This wasn’t a book. This was Remus’ journal. He should have known better. He should carefully put it back where he found it, wedged under Remus’ chocolate stash, pretend he never saw it, and go back to the common room. But Remus was talking about him. It had to be him. In tiny writing, there was a date scrawled in the corner of the page; _September 2, 1971_. It was their first year at Hogwarts. With a boulder lodged in his stomach, Sirius skipped forward a handful of pages and read on. 

_October 12, 1973_

_He knows and he doesn’t care. He should hate me – they both should – but him most of all. He’s told me everything. About his mother, his family, and I just kept lying, like nothing was wrong. But he doesn’t hate me. He cried when I told him, and hugged me until I couldn’t breathe. Right at the end, he said that he loved me no matter what. He promised that he’d find a way to fix me, to make things better. I didn’t have the courage to tell him that he’s already done it. He’s staying; it’s all I could have ever wanted._

_They said they’ll walk with me to the Shack next week. I’m already having nightmares about it. I don’t want them to see me like that, or put themselves in danger, but he insists. The only thing I know is that I will never forgive myself if I hurt him. He’s already been hurt so much. I want to hold his heart in my hands so no one else can break it. I know I won’t._

Sirius remembered the day well. The day when he and James had finally decided to confront Remus and tell him that they knew about his secret. He remembered Remus, teary-eyed, apologizing profusely as Sirius held him to his chest, the way his skin smelled of tea and sweets, but of moist dirt and pine needles, too. He remembered telling Remus that he loved him, but not quite understanding how heavy those words weighed on his chest.

But Sirius knew now. He figured it out months ago, really. Why he couldn’t stand anyone else looking at Remus with tender eyes. Why he hated the thought of anyone else sitting next to Remus at dinner or touching his arm to get his attention. Why no matter how many times the girls asked, Sirius refused to spend his time in Hogsmeade with anyone else but Remus. He knew he loved Remus with every fiber of his body, so intensely that sometimes it felt like his blood was on fire and Remus’ touch was the only antidote. What he didn’t know, though, was that Remus felt the same way.

Swallowing his pride, Sirius flipped to the most recent journal entry with trembling fingers, trying to push back the ball of hope lodged in his throat. Surely Remus just had some fleeting feelings he needed to work out; there’s no possible way that after two years he’d still feel the same.

_February 2, 1975_

_I almost told him today. In the middle of defense against the dark arts, no less. When it was his turn to read his essay to the class, he got up in the front of the room and ranted for ten minutes about why it’s unfair that werewolves are treated so poorly, and that most of them just want a hug and a nice cup of tea. The professor gave him a C, but he just marched right back to his seat, nudged my foot with his, and smiled like an idiot the rest of class. I almost told him, but I didn’t, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to._

_He’s so beautiful, and he knows it, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not beautiful because he has nice hair or a nice ass – even though he has both – and he’s not beautiful because he struts down the hallway like a king or wears that damn leather jacket all the time. He’s beautiful because he knows how to make the perfect cup of tea, even though he drinks his black. He’s beautiful because he never thinks about the consequences when he holds up his wand, ready to strike down whoever dares touch his friends. He’s beautiful because he’s Sirius, and he doesn’t try to be anyone else._

_We’re the same, both made from a dash of stardust and a couple of elements crammed together to make two boys, but he’s got the entire night sky trapped in his eyes, shining and glistening, endlessly captivating and yet so far from reach._

The writing ends there. Sirius sat quietly for a moment, not moving, not blinking, not even breathing. It was written just a week ago. Remus loves him, and the realization made his head spin so quickly he laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling. When he closed his eyes, all he sees is Remus staring back at him, but his gaze is tender and his fingers steady as he holds out his hand, begging Sirius to touch him. It could be real. It was so close to being real, Sirius’ palms tingled.

Eventually, he carefully stored the quill back in the journal, burying it under the chocolate stash in Remus’ trunk and closing the lid. He returned to the common room without anything to write with, carried by unsteady feet, and sat beside Remus, who was almost finished his essay.

“What?” Remus asked, all too aware of Sirius staring at him with a strange, dazed expression.

Sirius’ eyes flickered over Remus’ face, as if looking at him for the first time, seeing the jarring scars, the messy curls, the pouted lips in a new light. An extraordinary work of art, his for the taking. “Do you want to go somewhere tonight?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finally confronts Remus about what he read in his diary, and things start to spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr @simplysirius for daily fics and fanart! I also take requests :)

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

“What, we can’t just sit and admire the view?” Sirius asked, gesturing to the expanse of fjords and valleys spread around Hogwarts. The astronomy tower always gave the best view of the grounds, but with Remus sitting beside him on the cold stone, the sparking lake and distant mountains paled in comparison.

Remus shrugged, the pallid blue moonlight illuminating the confusion furrowing his face. “We can, but you haven’t stopped touching your hair.” On Sirius’ tilted head, he added quietly, “you do that when you’re nervous.”

Frowning, Sirius made a pointed effort to untangle his fingers from his hair and sat on his hands. “I just thought we should…you know, talk.”

“About?”

“How’s your day going?”

Remus blinked. “Sirius, you and I both know that you didn’t drag me all the way up here to ask me how my day is going.”

“I didn’t drag you, you walked,” Sirius protested. When Remus raised a suspicious eyebrow, he swallowed. “We need to talk about us. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Every muscle in Remus’ body tensed, though Sirius pretended not to notice. “Why would I hate you?”

Sirius sucked in a deep breath and drummed his nails on the stone beneath him, eyes cemented on his shoes because he couldn’t find the nerve to look at Remus. “When I was looking for a quill a little while ago, I was in your trunk and I couldn’t find any, so I kept digging and…I found one. In a book.”

It took Remus only half a second to realize where this conversation was going, but no matter how badly he wanted to scream or jump off the balcony, his body was frozen.

Sirius continued quickly. “So, I didn’t think anything of it, you know, I just grabbed it, but then I saw your writing and I thought that you were maybe, like, writing a story. And I…kind of read it.”

He shouldn’t have read it. God, he knew he shouldn’t have read Remus’ book – his goddamn diary – but he did, and now he’s forced to watch Remus’ face fall to the floor, his lips quivering and fingers shaking. And then, all of a sudden, an explosion.

“Wait a second, you what?” Remus exclaimed, clambering up from the floor and staggering back under the weight of the realization that his secret journal was not so secret anymore, and that, without trying, he had just irrevocably changed everything.

Sirius scrambled after him, grasping at the sleeve of Remus’ jumper to keep him from walking out the door. “Remus, stop–”

“Why would you do that?”

It wasn’t the way that Remus’ voice broke that shattered Sirius; it was the look on his face, twisted in agony, flushed with embarrassment, tattooed with betrayal. Sirius flinched under Remus’ crestfallen eyes, his fingers tightening around his sweater.

“Listen to me? Please?” He begged, trying to keep Remus close as he pulled away. “Remus, I liked what you wrote.”

Remus paused for just a moment before his eyes screwed shut and he tugged his arm free from Sirius’ grasp. His long strides ate the ground as he strode towards the door. “That book was supposed to be mine. Only mine. You...you weren’t supposed to know. So just forget about whatever you read and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

“What’s so wrong about me knowing?” Sirius challenged bravely, stopping Remus in his tracks. Sirius clenched his jaw, stitching every ounce of courage into his words. “What if I don’t want to pretend?”

Without turning around, Remus whispered, “pretending is easier.”

Sirius crossed his arms on his chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Just leave it alone, Sirius–”

“Can you stop being ridiculous for two seconds–”

“Do you think I wanted this?” Remus suddenly yelled, wheeling at Sirius with his fingers curled into tight fists. In the dim moonlight, hot tears welled under his eyes and quietly glistened, choking his voice. “I didn’t want things to change, okay? I didn’t want to know if you don’t feel the same way. If I wanted to tell you, I would have done it on my own terms. Not like this. You don’t get to decide if this is okay, Sirius-!”

Shaking his head, Sirius cried, “I get it, okay? I get that it’s scary but you don’t have to be pissed at me because I–”

“I’m not pissed at you, I’m in love with you!”

Remus’ words echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls, reverberating in their ears, tattooing themselves on balmy skin. With his lower lip taken sharply by his teeth and eyes blown wide, Remus was a ghastly picture illuminated by the moonlight, staring at Sirius, afraid of his reaction but desperate for an answer.

It wasn’t exactly news to Sirius – he could feel Remus’ love radiating off the pages of his journal – but it was the first time the words had ever left Remus’ lips. It wasn’t an _I love you, thanks for buying me some extra chocolate_ , and it wasn’t an _I love you but I can’t believe you landed us in detention again, I’m going to kill you_.

It was an _I love you, and I can’t stop loving you no matter what I do, and I will die if you don’t love me back_. Sirius understood it far too well, even if he didn’t keep a diary with lovely poetic metaphors and dazzling words that danced across the page. All he had to do was take one look at Remus and feel his heart lurch and his body ache to know that he was hopelessly, desperately, completely in love with his best friend.

Sirius approached Remus carefully, slowly, so he wouldn’t startle and run away again, and gingerly laced their fingers together. Remus made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but Sirius held firmly. “Will you please listen to me? Without running away or yelling?”

Remus hesitated, but nodded and braced himself for the fall. When Sirius would tell him that they should just be friends and awkwardly sit apart from each other until the graduated.

“I love you, Remus,” Sirius whispered, and though his words were hardly audible, they sent shockwaves careening around the room.

“No, you don’t,” Remus said softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“I promise, I’m not–”

“Sirius–”

The rest of Remus’ breath was stolen by Sirius’ lips on his, tender and pressing and softer than he had imagined. Sirius was everywhere; his hands caressing Remus’ neck, thumbs pressing into the soft skin under his jaw, noses bumping, chests and hips and thighs pressed flush together. All Remus could do was stand there, let himself fall into Sirius’ arms and melt under his kiss, his trembling hands hanging by his side, unsure where to touch first. He could do it now. Touch Sirius where he wanted to. His muscled back, maybe, or his broad shoulders, or even the curve of his ass if he was feeling particularly wild. Instead, his fingers wrapped around Sirius’ arms, holding them together, resolute to stay hidden in this room until the end of time.

Gasping for breath, Sirius pulled away just the slightest, enough for his eyes to wash over Remus’ face and lean their foreheads together. “I promise that I love you, Remus.

“I hate you,” Remus whispered, the first tear streaking down his cheek and dripping onto Sirius’ sweater. “I’m a mess.”

Sirius shrugged, wiping the tears away. “You’re a beautiful mess.”

“You aren’t allowed to steal my words,” Remus warned with a sheepish smile.

“I can’t say that you’re beautiful?”

“No. You have to find your own word.”

Sirius thought about it for a long moment, pouting his lips and humming an off-key tune, flipping through the pages in his rather limited dictionary. Remus was a thousand things. Charming. Divine. Lovely and ravishing and exquisite. But there was only one that fit.

“Okay,” he nodded, “I have one.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“You’re mine.”

\--

_February 12, 1975_

_My face is still warm from his breath, and my tongue tastes like his; a little minty, with maybe some smoke and ash, too. He’s gone to shower, but I don’t have to worry about my touch washing away with the soap and water. He’ll slip beside me in bed once James is asleep, and I’ll hold him and kiss him until he’s snoring in my ear. I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Not with him next to me. Why would I waste hours sleeping when I can look at his long lashes, listen to the way he sighs and mumbles with every passing dream, ghost my fingers along the curve of his bare shoulders._

_This is new, but it’s not scary, like I thought it would be. It’s not scary to kiss him, or ask him to kiss me, or hold him to my chest where I know he can hear my heart about to burst. Everything looks a little different now, lighter and golden, but nothing compares to him._

_There are just two simple truths in this world: I love Sirius, and Sirius loves me. For now, that’s enough._

**Author's Note:**

> Part two coming January 5th!


End file.
